He held hers.
Months passed toward the birth.
Caleb pursued legal advice.
So did Evelyn.
Kansas law in that era was not simple.
Paternity.
Marriage.
Parental rights.
Abandonment.
Everything depended on courts, county practice, and facts.
Nathaniel never promised outcomes.
He paid for nothing without asking.
When he offered legal costs, Evelyn initially refused.
He suggested a loan agreement.
She accepted.
Written.
Repayable when able.
That detail mattered to her dignity.
Nathaniel understood.
Then labor arrived early.
Three weeks before expected.
At dawn, Evelyn dropped a bowl.
Nathaniel entered the kitchen.
“What happened?”
She gripped the table.
“I think…”
Then another contraction hit.
Nathaniel’s face lost all color.
“What do I do?”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“Get Mrs. Talbot.”
The nearest midwife lived six miles away.
Nathaniel moved.
Evelyn grabbed his sleeve.
“Wait.”
He turned.
Another contraction.
Stronger.
Evelyn gasped.
Nathaniel supported her carefully.
“We’re not making six miles.”
He looked toward the door.
Then back.
“Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You know what I mean.”
He helped her to bed.
Sent a ranch hand for the midwife.
Boiled water because apparently every frightened man in history believed boiling water improved childbirth.
Evelyn laughed between contractions.
“Why are you boiling so much?”
Nathaniel looked offended.
“I don’t know.”
“Stop.”
“What should I do?”
“Stay.”
He froze.
Evelyn reached for his hand.
“Stay.”
Nathaniel sat.
Hours passed.
Pain became everything.
No romance.
No elegance.
Sweat.
Fear.
Cursing.
Nathaniel’s hand nearly crushed.
Evelyn apologized once.
He said:
“Break it if you need.”
She nearly did.
The midwife arrived.
Took control.
Nathaniel tried leaving.
Evelyn panicked.
“No.”
He stopped.
The midwife looked at her.
“You want him?”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel remained.
He brought water.
Wiped Evelyn’s forehead.
Held her shoulders when she needed leverage.
Never told her not to cry.
Never said she was doing beautifully when she clearly felt terrible.
He simply said:
“I’m here.”
Again.
And again.
“I’m here.”
Near sunset, the baby cried.
One sharp sound.
Then another.
Evelyn collapsed into tears.
The midwife wrapped the child.
“A girl.”
Evelyn laughed and cried at once.
“I knew.”
Nathaniel stood beside the bed.
Completely frozen.
The midwife looked at him.
“You planning to breathe?”
He exhaled.
She handed the baby to Evelyn.
Tiny.